


Funeral

by Anythingkj



Series: Unforgettable 'verse [2]
Category: No. 6 (Anime & Manga), No. 6 - All Media Types, No. 6 - Asano Atsuko
Genre: Funeral, Goodbye, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-30
Updated: 2014-04-30
Packaged: 2018-01-21 08:02:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1543544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anythingkj/pseuds/Anythingkj
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It seems so strange, but such a beautiful thing to... To honor and remember the dead instead of dumping them into a random plot of land or shoving them into black boxes where no one will ever see, just so that we can push the person and their death to the very back of our minds... I mean, it sounds wonderful, to me..." Part 2 of the Unforgettable 'verse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Second part of the 'verse! I hope you like it!

Nezumi shuts the front door quietly, as though he will awake someone with too loud a sound. Indeed, someone is lying on the bed. Indeed, they are sleeping. But it is an eternal sleep. No matter how much Nezumi hopes and prays and begs... It will always be eternal sleep.

He hates coming back to the apartment. It gives him the creeps. Plus, it seems as though the only things that can be done there are cry, practice, read, and cry some more.

Nezumi really wishes that his tear ducts would dry up; he hates to cry, and he hates himself for making a habit of it (not that it is in purpose, of course, but Nezumi was never logical when it came to feelings). Isn't it enough to feel the pain inside? Must it burn in his eyes and must it rip from his throat in tears and gasps and sobs that simply cannot be held in?

The world wants his suffering to be evident, with his bloodshot eyes and dark circles, with his horrible dry lips and shaking hands.

Nezumi must plan some sort of a funeral. He has never seen one before, but Shion read about them in one of the many books and that was it.

_"Nezumi, if I die before you, will you give me a funeral?" Nezumi looked up from his script, startled. He knew what a funeral was; he was an avid reader, and honestly they had always fascinated him... Instead of voicing that thought, however, he said in a bored tone,_

_"Why the hell would I ever do something like that?" Shion swallowed, shifting in his seat a bit, which Nezumi thought absolutely adorable, but of course he would never say something like that, either._

_"Well..." Shion began nervously. "It seems so strange, but such a beautiful thing to... To honor and remember the dead instead of dumping them into a random plot of land or shoving them into black boxes where no one will ever see, just so that we can push the person and their death to the very back of our minds... I mean, it sounds wonderful, to me...."_

_"There is nothing 'wonderful', about death, whether you experience loss, or whether you pretend it never happened or hell, have a fucking party like you seem to think those 'funeral' things are, you ignorant little shit. Death is death." Nezumi had been harsh before, but never so blatantly and unnecessarily cruel. Nezumi turned back to his script._

_"I'd do it for you." Shion said softly. Nezumi pretended not to hear him._

Later Shion got a lecture about how it was unsafe to invest in someone like that... To commit to them...

Now, Nezumi had broken his own rules.

_So,_ he thinks to himself as he absentmindedly chops the vegetables for his Macbeth soup for one, _Maybe I was asking for this. I'm a fucking hypocrite._

Nezumi had read every book he could find on funerals,  and there were many funerals, big funerals that filled a whole _church_ (those also mystify him; gathering to praise something in the sky? He has heard of God, and even of gods from his books, but he did not fully understand them) and with a man in charge reciting religious scriptures and memories; a man after a large funeral, at this thing called a _cemetary,_ one that holds the dead, and where you can visit those you have lost. Again, this he did not quite understand; they were _dead._ They were underground. Doesn't it feel strange to talk to a stone in the ground? But his favorite, the one that when he had read of it he had cried, was a small outdoor funeral, and a mother gave a speech of a small boy who had been kidnapped, brutally beaten, and found dead in a locked shed. He was her son, but instead of speaking of what had happened, she spoke of his life. She spoke of how his eyes lit up when he played a _guitar_ (Nezumi has heard of the guitar but has never seen one) and how polite he was and his friends. He was ten years old. Nezumi had watched ten-year-old boys disappear in flames, screaming bloodly murder as though someone could save them. They were good boys, _friends_ of Nezumi's even, before he was a corrupt and cynical individual. Yes, he had cried because he wished he could have done that for his family, of whom he barely remembered.

And now Shion wants a funeral. It is strange how Shion was the last person he could ever imagine even enjoying their company, but Shion made him smile even if he didn't want to and _feel_ even if he didn't ever plan to.

Yes, he will give this boy a funeral. Whether he wants to or not. It was the only thing Shion really ever asked of him.


	2. Funeral, Pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A continuation of Funeral.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second Part :) Please excuse the terrible ending.m

" _Thou know'st the mask of night is on my face,_

_Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek_

_For that which thou hast heard me speak to-night_

_Fain would I dwell on form, fain, fain deny_

_What I have spoke: but farewell compliment!_

_Dost thou love me? I know thou wilt say 'Ay,'_

_And I will take thy word: yet if thou swear'st,_

_Thou mayst prove false; at lovers' perjuries-_ " For a minute, Nezumi is Juliet, falling, or rather, who has fallen, for the lovely Romeo. The classic love story. It is the only Shakespeare Nezumi doesn't like, but he also knows it as well as the back of his hand. But he can't remember this _damn_ soliloquy, he can't get it right.

Damn it, acting is the one thing he can always do right! He flips back a few pages in his script.

" _My only love sprung from my only hate!_

 _Too early seen unknown, and known too late-_ " Inukashi bursts into the room.

"The job's done." He knows Inukashi should not be sympathetic. When her Mother died, he had only used her. When her brother died, he called him a stupid mutt and laughed in her face. So why is her voice softer than it usually is, not quite as scathing and full of hatred? They all knew pity was a dangerous thing.

He follows her outside. Things were very different now, and they had even change in the week that Shion had died. He feels almost guilty to be happy at not having his red eyes staring at him when he tried to sleep, those eyes that once held fury, and sadness, and frustration and... love... were now dull and empty. He hates those eyes now.

The streets are busier than they used to be around his place, the citizens surprisingly less violent and more... passive. He can easily tell who grew up inside Number 6, and who was cast out. What's the strangest part of it, even stranger than the different people mingling, is that more people seem to be _smiling._

Nezumi grits his teeth. _What fucking right do they have to be happy? They're in the West District..._

Nezumi tries to wish back the dank, dangerous streets with old women dying in the alleyways, children sobbing yelling _please we need food,_ that constant feeling that someone is going to stab you in the back, quite literally.

He doesn't feel that now, and it is strange. These people are happy indeed, the former Number 6 citizens overjoyed at the prospect of real freedom, the former West District citizens overjoyed at the thought of _real, new,_ clothing being sold here and _real, new_ food that wasn't moldy or sour, all coming in with the Number 6 citizens.

He hates it. He hates it all and he wants them all to go back to where they came from.

This is his turf, and while he hates to admit it, sometimes, well, he would let himself feel safe on this street that was usually empty, and his small living space with... Shion.

He huffs to himself. He really needs to get over himself. What is he to do, wallow until he dies too?

When they get to Inukashi's lot, his eyes widen. They had dug a hole for Shion, so deep that from the place where he is standing Nezumi can not see inside. The body is no where to be found, which means...

He stupidly peers over the edge.

He has climbed over masses of dead bodies, kicked them aside of the streets, ignored the squish under his shoe when he accidentally stepped on a dead person's hand-

So why does he feel like vomiting?

To his horror, he does. Nezumi never gets sick. He hates it. He thinks it's almost like asking someone to take advantage of you. It makes you weak.

But he retches into the bushes for what seems like forever. His dark hair falls in his face, and the bile gets into it, too- there is no real vomit, for he has nothing to regurgitate- and Nezumi just wants it to stop.

When he is finished he stands up and wipes his mouth, glaring at Inukashi and Rikiga, (who must have come sometime inbetween Nezumi's arrival and the end of his retching) as they stare at him opened mouth.

Rikiga chuckles, and the noise makes Nezumi clench his fist.

"Shut up, old man." He half-rasps and half-snarls.

"Oh, how the mighty have fallen!" Rikiga chortles.

"Shut up!" The boy yells, this time reaching for his knife, and realizing in horror that he's _forgotten_ his knife.

He hates himself these days. He’s weak, and he knows it. _You’re going to die._ His own voice mocks him mercilessly.

These days, he wishes he could be an apathetic, ruthless boy as he had always tried to be. It's what one has to do to survive.

_But what if I want to do more than just survive? Actually live before I end up like Shion or worse?_

The thought catches him off guard.

Rikiga and Inukashi are staring again, and he walked back over to the hole, embarrassed.

"So are you gonna sing?" Inukashi asks. He looks at her for a moment, and for once Nezumi's gaze is not vicious or full of contempt; no, he looks and realizes she has grown in the past few months. She is growing up.

Shion will never grow up. The little boy in his book will never grow up.

Nezumi is going to do this, just like the little boy's funeral. But he won't cry.

"Actually, I'm going to say a few words for Shion." Inukashi's eyebrows shoot up and Rikiga regarded him strangely, but Nezumi turns around, and begins to speak.

"I brought Shion here. He lived in No. 6 until I did. He was annoying, clueless, and an airhead." He paused. "Shion was also the strangest person I ever met. He always smiled, always found the good in things. I mean, who the hell does that?" He needs to stop, needs to stop because they're going to laugh at him, he's a fool for doing this because they'll never look at him the same, they'll never take him seriously ever again...

But when he glances up he finds the stupid old drunk tearing up, and Inukashi stares silently at the ground.

"That was beautiful, Eve!" The former exclaims, slightly hysterical. He is definitely not sober.

"Shut up." Nezumi lashes out again. "Must you always be a weak sentimental fool?"

Rikiga is about to yell back at him when Inukashi steps between them.

“Guys! There’s no time for this. Nezumi, we had your stupid funeral,” Her sympathy is gone. “Now let’s cover the body up before it stinks.” She takes pleasure in Nezumi’s flinch at her words. Maybe now he understands what it’s like to bury someone you care for and to have to listen to words like those, words that are the equivalent of spitting on their grave.

She did care for Shion, though. She did. If she hadn’t, she wouldn’t be there now, handing a shovel to Nezumi. He snatches it from her.

“I’ll do it myself.” He spits at her. So Inukashi and Rikiga leave, and Nezumi works to fill the hole and cover the marred body until the sun rises the next day.


End file.
